Monday, June 06, 2005
Meanwhile, in a cinema somewhere:
"You got all excited when I said I'd got preview tickets to 'Batman Begins', didn't you?"
The Wife nodded. "I thought you'd said 'Brother Beyond.'"
"Ah." This, at least, went some way to explaining the 'Nathan Moore is Innocent' t-shirt he was wearing.
"I didn't think you'd come, though," I said.
"Why on earth would I miss Christian Bale bouncing around in black rubber?"
"Someone you hate is in this."
"I don't hate anyone."
"You hate Ka-tie Ho-holm-es," I said in a sing-song voice.
"Oh come on! Everyone hates Katie Holmes!" he snapped.
We watched the movie for a bit.
"There she is," I said with no small amount of glee.
The Wife had shrunk down in his seat a little. "Look at her. Her head's too big for her body."
"Hmm. Her forehead does protrude too much. She looks like one of those fishes."
"...there she is, running along. With her enormous head. Bouncing around like a bladder on a stick."
"You really don't like her, do you?"
"Naw. Not really."
We watched some more.
"There's something wrong with Bale's mouth," I opined.
"There's nothing wrong with that mouth. Apart from-"
"Apart from it's not attached to yours?"
The Wife grinned sheepishly.
"No, look," I said. "It appears he's sucking in his cheeks, but his lips are sticking out like two surfboards."
"Will you two please be quiet!" hissed the elderly female journalist beside us.
We raised our eyebrows and looked at each other. Ooh, someone else to hate.
We watched more of the film.
The Wife turned to me with his cheeks sucked in, and a marshmallow jammed between his teeth and his lips.
"Mook-at-me, I'm Cwistiam Bay-le" he said, muffled by confectionary.
I bust out laughing.
There was more film.
"If you two don't be quiet, I'm going to call the usher," said the cat-smelling journalist next to us.
"What, Neil?" I said, pointing at the man with the torch near the doors.
"Er..." she said, torrent stalled.
"Oh I know him," I said. "He's an ex. Still got a pair of my Calvins, so I think he owes me a favour. Do you want me to get him to move you?"
"I, uh, well. That is to say... I'll go and see his manager."
"He is the manager."
"Alright then. Lets just keep things as they are, shall we?"
More film happens.
"You don't wear Calvins," the Wife whispered.
"I see. And you've never met that man before in your life, have you?"
We watched the end of the film.
"I quite liked that," I said.
The Wife was already jumping down the corridor, pretending to be Batman. That means he loved it - when he starts pretending to be the star of the show, you know he had a good time. Although we had a heck of a problem when we went to see 'Saw'.
I caught up while he was pretending to stand on a precipice, looking manly.
"Shame Katie didn't die," he said, clambering down from the low wall.
"You still have that Dawson's Creek where she drowns."
"I liked the Scarecrow, though."
"What, the moth-eaten old cloth that terrorises all?"
"Yeah. Kinda reminded me of a young Joan Rivers..."
We walked towards the train.
"I can't wait for the next one," I said.
"I wonder what they'll call it? 'Batman Beings'... 'Batman Starts More'?"
"'Batman Almost Ready'?"
"Batman About To Go...'"
"'...But May Have Left The Iron On At Home.'"
"Batman Jerks Forward."
"Lorks, I'd pay to see that!"
And then we went home.